“—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. I've my own reasons for disliking this job. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. "I did see them on the platform of the bridge—the child and his preserver! They were not struck by the fallen ruin, nor whelmed in the roaring flood,—or, if they were, they escaped as I escaped. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. She ran away from you; and now I can easily understand why. Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night.
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